


The Goodbye Affair

by Ingu



Series: The Man From Tumblr [4]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Established Relationship, M/M, Misunderstandings, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-03
Updated: 2015-10-03
Packaged: 2018-04-24 13:44:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4921831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ingu/pseuds/Ingu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Napoleon is leaving.</p><p>Logically, Illya had known this day would come. When they first met, Napoleon had already served ten years of his fifteen-year sentence. Their partnership has always had an expiry date. But what Illya had never counted on was the possibility that when that day arrived, he’d feel this terrified.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Goodbye Affair

**Author's Note:**

> [Anonymous](http://ingu.tumblr.com/post/130121267853/could-i-get-a-napollya-drabble-where-one-of-them): could I get a napollya drabble where one of them accidentally says "I love you" spontaneously without thinking about it?

Napoleon is leaving.

Logically, Illya had known this day would come. When they first met, Napoleon had already served ten years of his fifteen-year sentence. Their partnership has always had an expiry date. But what Illya had never counted on was the possibility that when that day arrived, he’d feel this terrified. He will never see Napoleon again. After today, they will go their separate ways. Panic is a heavy weight in Illya's throat he can’t seem to breathe around, and he has completely lost track of the chess game he's supposed to be focused on. Is it black’s turn? Or white’s?

“Well, I think I’m all packed,” Napoleon says, settling in the sofa across from Illya with a drink in his hand. It's vintage scotch, because the American never seems to resist having the best things in life. Napoleon studies Illya’s game curiously as he takes a sip. “The flight’s in two hours.”

“I love you,” Illya says without thinking.

Napoleon freezes, his gaze snapping up at him. “What?”

Illya stiffens, and his eyes widen in alarm. What was that? Where had that come from? He pretends nothing had just happened, and moves a knight illegally across half the chessboard.

A smile grows on Napoleon’s face. “Peril, did you just…?”

“No.”

“But I’m quite sure-“

“No,” Illya says, mortification taking over him as he stares at the pieces. “I never said anything.”

“You love me.”

Illya can hear the smirk in Napoleon’s voice. He opens his mouth to deny it, and then closes it again, his shoulders slumping. He can’t bring himself to take it back.

There’s a moment of silence that goes on for too long.

“Hey,” Napoleon murmurs, “Illya?”

Illya is still frozen, his gaze fixed on the broken game of chess in front of him. There’s the clink of an empty glass settling on top of a table, and the rustle of fabric. Napoleon stands up, walking around the table toward his partner. He lowers himself to his knees by Illya’s side, one hand coming to rest on the Russian’s leg, the other reaching into soft blond hair.

“I can’t say I’m not touched. But what’s gotten into you today?” Napoleon says, stroking Illya hair gently. His fingers trail down Illya’s cheek, and traces along Illya’s jaw. Illya blinks, his vision suddenly blurry.

Carefully, Napoleon nudges Illya’s chin so they’re facing one another. Illya stares into the deep blue of Napoleon’s eyes, and finds worry staring back at him. Whatever Napoleon sees in Illya’s expression, it makes his breath quicken, and his eyes darken with something that isn’t quite lust, and isn’t quite anger.

“Waverly didn’t tell you,” Napoleon says.

“Tell me what?”

“That I’m not going anywhere,” Napoleon says, and then he’s kissing Illya, gently, sweetly. The tension in Illya drains away as lets himself be swept up by Napoleon’s attention, alongside relief so strong it leaves him dizzy. Illya’s hand finds Napoleon’s and curls around it, trapping it beneath his.

Then, the kiss slows, and stops. Illya opens his eyes, breathless.

“And do you know why, Illyushenka?” Napoleon whispers against Illya’s lips, his eyes bright. Then, he’s biting at the lobe of Illya’s ear, and his breath is hot against Illya’s skin as he whispers the next words.

“I love you too.”


End file.
